A/N: So we've reached the end of our story! I'm posting this chapter instead of watching Season 8 Episode 4 because my computer decided it was going to kill all attempts at livestreaming despite me staying up until 2am. It's fine. I'll just be over here weeping in the corner. NO SPOILERS PLEASE I'LL WATCH IT TOMORROW. So how about leaving me a nice comment to cheer me up? I'm literally overwhelmed by how lovely you guys are being. Each review makes me melt a little inside. I'm blushing, really. Thanks for being wonderful, faithful readers and I hope this chapter is everything you want :) Love you all! xxx

"So you just let him fly away?!"

Sam was giving Dean a headache. Honestly, he could be such a little bitch sometimes. It wasn't his fault he got all gooey-fied by a freaking Cupid.

"Shut it, Sammy. Just butt out, okay?" Dean growled, rubbing his forehead. Bobby gave Sam a look that said talk to him.

Sam knew what the look meant, but was tempted to ignore it. Dean looked like he was ready to kill something. Or someone. At times like this Sam had learned (the hard way) that it was better to give his brother some space.

Bobby was having none of it though, and wheeled himself across the room towards the door leading to the kitchen. He gave Sam another glare as he passed, tossing his head in the vague direction of Dean, and running over Sam's foot for good measure.

Sam mouthed 'OW' at the old hunter as he left the room, and pretended not to hear the murmur of 'idgits' under his breath.

"Dean." Sam said, his voice barely making it across the room to where his brother sat slumped in a chair by the desk, his head propped in one hand. He didn't respond. "Dean, can I just say one thing?"

Dean shrugged and didn't open his eyes.

"Cas never comes when I call him." Sam said, shaking his head a little and staring at Dean's unmoving face.
"And when you think about it, why would he? He's an angel! He's got way more important stuff to do than tell me how to kill this week's Biblical monster, when I'd probably eventually find out anyway."

Sam hesitated, scanning Dean's passive face for a reaction. Nada.

"So then… that begs the question, why does he come when you call?" Dean's eyes fluttered open for a moment, then close again. "It used to annoy the hell out of me, seeing him put you on some damn pedestal, and never caring if it was me in trouble. But then, seeing him yesterday, watching him confess his feelings out loud – I realised. And I'm not mad anymore." Dean shifted in his seat. "It's because of everything you've done for him. He saved you from Hell, and then you saved him right back. You gave him a reason to hope, a family – one that isn't a bunch of dicks. You gave him something to fight for, and a chance to be who he really is. He'll come to you every damn time Dean, cause he fell in love with you the moment he first laid a hand on you. He'll do anything for you, cause you did everything for him."

Sam decided that was enough, and shut up, standing up straight and feeling suddenly awkward. Dean had opened his eyes at last and was staring at Sam from across the room, as if trying to figure something out.

"Well, I've said my piece, so I'm gonna go help Bobby do… something." Dean still said nothing. "Remember what I said. He always comes when you call." He said again, and left the room.

Dean was at war with himself. One half of his brain was telling him that this was Cas, a freakin' dude, angel whatever- and he was sure as hell not in love with him. Cas was like a nice safety blanket. Reassuring, there when you needed him, useful, very warm draped around you-WOAH. Dean shook his head free of that last thought. But still. A safety blanket was a good description of Castiel. Dean Winchester was not a child – he did not need a blankie. No matter what Sam says. Don't listen to Sam.

The other half of his brain was somewhat louder, presumably, Dean assumed, because of the fresh, humiliating memories of the past day. This half was not-so-subtly reminding him of all the times Castiel had saved Dean, swooping in impressively at the last minute, killing his own brothers just to keep him safe. He was reminded of how Castiel had freaking died for him, without even really letting Dean consider any other options.

Dean decided to mull things over in his mind. He was pretty safe in his mind. Nobody would know if he entertained the thought of …loving Castiel. It felt weird to even think it. But Cupids were Cupids for a reason, he supposed.

He thought about Castiel's ice blue eyes, filled with such purity, such innocence, slowly darkening over time as he learned what humans were capable of. He thought about Castiel's hands, fluttering lightly over his middle, like wings in themselves, then gripping him tightly, and pulling him in, as though raising him from perdition once more. He thought about the way Castiel tilted his head to the side when he didn't understand something, like a curious bird, trying to view the situation from a new perspective, and gain a better understanding. That one made Dean smile. Lastly, he thought about Castiel's voice, so sensual, so deep and unexpected the first time he heard it in that barn. Castiel's true voice had nearly deafened him of course, but that just reminded Dean of what lurked beneath that human-looking exterior – something too powerful to even comprehend. He felt a shiver run through him at the idea.

He remembered Castiel telling him he loved him in that low, uncertain voice. He wished he'd been in his right mind so he could have… could have what? What did Dean Winchester want now? Entertaining the thought had been enough for him. He realised what he wanted now. What he'd wanted all along really.

He wanted to talk to his angel again.

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to Castiel to get his adorable little ass down here, so we can talk about this freaking awkward situation we're suddenly in."

Dean cracked one eye open, and upon seeing the room was still empty, sighed and tried again.

"Cas, I know you can hear me, quit brushing your feathers and get down here. I need to tell you… something."

A waft of air brushed Dean's ear, and he tried not to smile.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel said after a few moments of silence. Dean opened his eyes. Castiel was stood with his back against the wall, looking like he was preparing to fly away any second.


Dean sat upright in his chair, and stared at the figure before him. The angel looked the same as he always did, clad in his trademark too-big trenchcoat and unruly black hair.

"You summoned me." Castiel said at length. Neither of them seemed to be able to start this conversation. Dean raised his eyebrows at that, though.

"I didn't summon you. You're not my little bitch, Cas." Dean replied, a bit annoyed that Castiel was implying Dean was treating him like a butler. "It was a polite request."

Now it was Cas' turn to raise his eyebrows, and Dean could practically hear the words 'get his adorable little ass down here' swimming around in his brain. He tried not to smile again at the thought.

"I don't think there's anything more to say." Castiel said, not quite meeting Dean's eyes. "I stand by my earlier statement. If you now deem this arrangement between us unmanageable because of my declaration, I understand. I can ask one of my brothers, perhaps Samandiriel if he would watch over you and Sam-"

"Woah, woah! Hold on a minute, will you?" Dean cried, cutting Castiel off mid-flow. Castiel looked worried, and a little annoyed, but stopped speaking. Dean got up from his chair and began pacing the room. Suddenly, he turned to Cas. "I think you're forgetting something, here. I don't want you to leave Cas, where did you even get that idea?"

Castiel gave a tiny shrug, but looked mildly pleased.

"What did that Cupid say the reason for my being all gooey was?" Dean asked, realising what he was about to reveal for the first time, and feeling his stomach drop in anxiety.

Castiel's brows knitted together. "He said… that he'd broken down your inhibitions… so that your love could freely express itself." The angel said, looking as if he didn't completely understand what he was saying. Human emotions must be difficult for angels to comprehend.

Dean nodded, thinking of the manly acids and chemicals in his stomach that would surely kill those butterflies flapping away any moment now. "Right. And what did I say when you… after you…" Dean took a deep breath in and closed his eyes. "…when you said you loved me?"

Castiel's gaze immediately dropped to his feet, and Dean could see that he was blushing furiously. He'd be damned if that wasn't the most freaking adorable thing he'd ever seen. Suppressing the (weird) urge to wrap Castiel in his arms and cradle him like a puppy, Dean waited for the angel's reply.

"You said…" Castiel mumbled towards the ground, trailing off.

"Yeah…?" Dean urged. Castiel sighed and looked skywards, like he was wishing he was at home in the clouds right now.

"You said you loved me too." Dean breathed a sigh of relief, glad to know they were on the same page. "But considering you called me 'Castiel-oh-great-and-powerful-angel-of-the-Lord' I wasn't inclined to take you too seriously." Castiel added, almost angrily, or perhaps he was just hurt, Dean couldn't tell.

"Oh come on! Just cause I had a li'l nickname for you doesn't mean it wasn't true! I was off my tits on angel juice, you can't expect me to have been freaking Shakespeare! Cas, I may have said and done some stuff I majorly regret today, but I never said anything that wasn't true." Dean looked at Cas hesitantly, heart pounding. Castiel just stared at Dean, a look of wonder on his face. Of course, being Cas, this wasn't an unusual feat.

"So, when you said that you want to cover me in cake batter and lick-"

"Oh my god." Dean groaned, cutting him off, and squeezed his eyes shut at the memory. When he opened them again, Cas was actually smiling. A proper, wide smile, his cerulean eyes glinting cheekily. "You're a bitch."

Castiel looked worried then, and Dean's heart leapt out to him, like it always did. This time, instead of restraining it and chaining it it down with years of other repressed emotions, Dean let himself feel for the creature before him. He strode over to where Castiel still leaned against the wall and threaded his arms around the angel's middle, laughing a little as he fought his way through endless trenchcoat. Castiel smiled when Dean smiled, so that took care of that nervous little expression that had been there moments before.

Dean leaned down and rested his face against Castiel's bare neck, a few tendrils of black hair tickling his cheekbone. He placed a small kiss against the angel's skin and moved up a bit to whisper in his ear. "I guess it's a good thing I love you so much."

The last thing he saw before pressing his lips against Cas' was the angel's perfect, bashful, adorable smile, and two beautiful blue eyes.

"I love you too, Dean." Castiel suddenly said out of nowhere, three days later, while Sam, Dean, Bobby and himself were sat at the kitchen table, cleaning guns. Dean looked vaguely surprised, but knew sometimes Castiel took a while to catch up with the rest of the world. Hell, he found it endearing. "I never said it again, after that first time." Cas explained.

"I know you do, Cas." Dean said, grinning, and winked at the angel seated next to him, pulling him forwards by the lapels for a kiss.

Sam mimed sticking his fingers down his throat and throwing up over the table. Dean broke away from Castiel's lips just long enough to whack him with the oily rag he was holding.

"Idgits." Bobby muttered, concentrating hard on the shotgun in his hands. Castiel wondered to whom he was referring.

Since the… incident, things were going pretty well. Cas was here pretty much all the time now, which wasn't that much of a problem, since he didn't sleep – although that didn't stop Dean from dragging him into his and Sam's room every night; Sam decided to sleep on the couch – and didn't eat, and was probably the most useful resource in Bobby's library.

For Dean, it was probably the best thing that had happened since being raised from perdition, and he basically walked around with a huge, silly grin plastered to his face. Cas was very pro-making-Dean-happy, which meant that Dean could pretty much get away with anything now, and the make out sessions were becoming a lot more frequent, much to Sam's disgust.

Cas was a quick learner in that area too, despite Dean's initial concerns that he would have a somewhat conservative attitude towards the whole sex thing. To be fair to Dean, the last time he'd seen Cas even attempt that sort of thing was in that damn strip club, and Cas shyly confided to him one night under the covers of his childhood bed, with one hand on the imprint he'd burned into Dean's skin so long ago, that he may have purposefully picked the girl's worst memories to ask her about so that he wouldn't have to go through with it. He had been in love with Dean the whole time.

Dean reeled a bit from that statement, and didn't respond other than to roll Cas over and plant several soft kisses along his jaw and down his neck, sucking softly at the skin because he couldn't help leaving a mark on his angel, even though he knew Sam would comment on it in the morning. Anyway, Cas really seemed to like it, judging by the way he squirmed.

Some mornings, Castiel liked to get up before Dean woke, perhaps flying to Heaven for a while to take care of some business while his hunter was still sleeping.

Most mornings however, Castiel liked to lie beside Dean, feeling his warmth, his solid presence. He liked to watch the flutter of Dean's eyes behind his closed lids, and take a sneak peek at his dreams if he got too curious. Sometimes Dean dreamt of Hell, of searing pain and tortured screams, of chains and blood. Often Dean dreamt of Sam, and even more often with John, their father whom Castiel had never met. He dreamt of Bobby, and of apple pie, and of his beloved car. But sometimes, more often than he would have dared believe, Dean dreamt of Castiel. These dreams were those that Cas liked best of all, because it meant he could brush his lips softly over Dean's while he slept. And when his hunter woke, and saw his dream was a reality, Castiel couldn't remember anything more miraculous in all his thousands of years.